For those of us of a certain age, raised in the aisles of the local video shop staring up in wonder at the hand-painted VHS covers (so much better than photoshop) Cannon films has some fond memories. Bought in 1979 out of a lust to conquer America from Israels two biggest film-makers (Yoram Globus and Menahem Golan), Cannon had previously existed as a B-Movie specialist with one break-out hit to their name, the excellent Joe (John G Avildsen, 1970). But Globus and Golan had big dreams, and even bigger delusions. The figured that if they pre-sold the rights to their movies (which they were very good at) they could finance them and later films. It was a business model that worked really well, for a while, until they got over-ambitious and dissolved owing a lot of people a lot of money.

The whole fantastic story is well told in Hartley’s documentary, that makes good watching for any child of the 80s, or anyone who want to know how the film industry works (or often doesn’t). That Cannon, for a while, seriously shook up the majors shows the power of product, but their over ambition and hubris demonstrates how not to sustain a film-business. Their impact is amazing in many ways – helping to refine the modern action film, exploiting the power of film-franchises and creating the original mock-busters. I can remember fondly many of their films – some that I’ve revisited later realizing how undemanding we must have been back then. They gave us Chuck Norris & Jean-Claude Van Damme, kept Charles Bronson in work, helped the UK sustain film-production, recognized the importance of foreign sales and every now and then helped to create some weird and wonderful pictures. Films such as the bat-shit crazy Lifeforce, the wonderful Company of Wolves and the experimental documentary Powaqqatsi; they financed films from such film-makers as Jean-Luc Godard and Franco Zeferelli, letting them do what they liked to create serious art. But I’ll remember them for those hours I spent staring at Masters of the Universe, King Solomon’s Mines, Superman IV: The Quest for Peace, Appointment with Death… In many ways all terrible films. But good god I had fun.

Whatever you think of Kingsman you’ve got to applaud Matthew Vaughan. This is a man who turned down directing X-Men: Days of Future Past after he made the excellent X-Men: First Class, to follow a passion product, backed by his own money. He swapped a budget of $200 million + for the meagre (by Hollywood standards) $80 million, and filming in the UK. With this, Stardust and Kick-Ass, Vaughan is becoming a one-man UK film industry. And if his films are as much fun as this, long may he continue.

Vaughan has made a film for anyone who has an inner 15 year old Lad. Admittedly this won’t be for everyone, but I do have an inner 15 year old and by the end of the film he was beaming in joy. It’s a film that wears its influences on its sleeves – taking obvious inspiration from the 60 Spy Craze – but manages to spin them into a modern context, being both fresh and familiar at the same time. Key to this is the chemistry between Colin Firth (clearly having a whale of a time as a fine-tailored bad-ass) and new-comer Taron Egerton who sells the main character’s transition from council estate reprobate to international spy. The action, like Kick-Ass, happily eschews the bloodless approach of so many Hollywood action films of recent years, and gleefully throws a healthy bag of Ultra-Violence at the audience. In one delirious scene Firth goes bat-shit crazy in a church, throwing aside his King’s Speech stuffyness. Good support comes from Samuel L. Jackson, Mark Strong (not a bad-guy for once) with Mark Hamill and Michael Caine cameoing. It’s also the first film I’ve seen in a long time that doesn’t try to wedge in an artificial romance between the hero and a fellow lady–spy (Sophie Cookson) allowing her character to contribute to the action and story on her own terms, rather than as a romantic adjunct.

Your reaction will depend greatly on your love of swearing, OTT action and anal-sex jokes. If, like me, there’s a part of you that wants to cast off the trappings of being a responsible adult and indulge a more puerile side you’ll have fun. If not, try something else. Still I can’t help but smile at the unsuspecting audience members who might wander in because that nice Mr Firth headlines the cast…

It would take a brave man to bet against this film doing well at the Oscars. A grandstanding performance from a neglected star, Michael Keaton (check!) Technically inventive direction in which the film appears as one long camera movement (check!) Satirical jibes at the nature of actors and acting – Hollywood does love to look like it doesn’t take itself seriously (check!) But, and here’s the rub, is it that good?

Telling the story of Riggan Thompson, famous for the superhero of the title, as he attempts to move into ‘serious’ theatre by adapting Raymond Carver, the film takes place over several days and charts Thompson’s issues with staging his adaptation and his own mental decay. Keaton prowls and twitches like he hasn’t in over a decade – it’s the sort or performance that gets called ‘brave’, in that it semi-parodies his own career and shows his gameness to satirise & expose himself (quite literally in one scene in which he dashes through NYC barely clothed). Discussions are had about acting, with Ed Norton doing a fine line in bullshit about being ‘real’. Ideas and motifs of falling abound, suggesting that truth in performance comes from release. But it’s all wrapped up in a consciously false package, in which the single take look works as much against the action as with it. Yes it gives a dreamy, floating, uninterrupted feel to the film, but it’s also very self-conscious, forever reminding the audience how technically clever it is in its subversion of film grammar. Perhaps that’s the point, to comment on the lines between artifice and truth, within a false package in which everything is false.

As it ended I felt conflicted. Moments of camera work are dazzling, as are the majority of the performances. But I’m not sure it rings true, and the anxieties of a bunch of venal, narcissistic actors is never going to pull at my heart strings. At least, though, it’s different – a failed experiment perhaps, but an experiment none-the-less and we should be grateful that such a thing gets a wide release. Thompson’s alter-ego, the gravel voice of Birdman, tells him that what the audience wants is spectacle, explosions, “People, they love blood. They love action. Not this talky, depressing, philosophical bullshit.” In the lobby to the cinema the queue for Dumb and Dumber To was huge. About 10 of us watched Birdman. Does this mean anything – probably not, other than when your spending money you are inherently conservative. I wonder who came out happier.

Oh the multitude inequities of film. Along comes a good adaptation of 2000AD’s Judge Dredd and no-one goes. I mean, ok that does include me, but y’know I rented it so I think I still have some moral high ground. And you could join me here, up in the rarefied atmosphere of knowing you supported a film that deserved your hard earned pennies by buying/renting/downloading it. It’s great in a nice scuzzy violent sort of a way. It takes a very simple premise, Dredd and newbie Judge Anderson get locked in a towering ghetto where the head baddie, Ma-Ma, instructs that they be killed. Ok, so far so The Raid. But it’s a very different movie, creating a convincing evocation of a dystopian society (filmed in Johannesburg) in which all sort of ludicrous ultra-violence takes place, enhanced by the use of a drug-induced POV which slows everything down for the user and us.

Striding this like a colossus is Karl Urban who should surely win a best actor award for actor who is only allowed to emote with his chin. Five minutes is enough for Stallone’s camp extravaganza to be forgotten. With this and his spot-on portrayal of Dr McCoy on Star Trek he’s fast becoming a favorite of mine. Please someone give this a sequel, rather than blowing another $200 million on another Transformers or GI Joe.

For lovers of proper 18 rated action – this may be the closest we get to a proper OTT Hollywood Verhoeven movie for the foreseeable future.

Spoilers!

Normally I avoid reviews of recent releases on this blog – there are so many out there what’s the point on joining in the cacophany? However with TDKR I’ll make an exception. One, because I really like Batman, and two, because I really liked the film. It also gives a chance to reflect on all of Nolan’s Bat-films.

Although reaction to TDKR has been largely positive, there have been some dissenting voices, especially where the ending is concerned. The reaction, much of which is from the fan-boy community (I’m looking at you Harry Knowles) highlights the virtual impossibility of comic book adaptations. Opening up a character in a way that makes him or her accessible to a wider audience than just comic book fans is essential for a film’s success, however alienating the die-hards can be problematic – particularly when word gets around the web. Nolan’s bat films have carved an interesting path in regards to this. Early on, in Batman Begins, Nolan simultaneously acknowledged his understanding of the accumulated history of Batman (for instance having the killer of Thomas and Martha Wayne called Joe Chill) and also more recent developments in comic lore (picking on elements of the Gotham crime families as seen in Batman Year One), but he also signalled his desire to create new elements to the story, making Ra’s al Ghul Wayne’s mentor and radically reconceptualising the Batmobile. Enough for the comic fans yes, but also something fresh and accessible for those who only know the stories from the films and TV. By picking across the different versions of Batman that exist, and then adding his own ideas and elements, Nolan balanced both audiences beautifully, gaining the support of the fans and the everyday movie goer.

He also, and this is not to denigrate his work, had the support of Joel Schumacher. Batman and Robin had been so poor, so camp, that Nolan’s credible take on the subject matter shone out. Then came The Dark Knight. Bigger, better, and bolder this was a film that transcended Begins, creating an epic crime drama in which some of the participants just happen to be more than a little odd. Nolan is excellent at creating grounded spectacle; for the most part the action feels real, with CGI augmenting the visuals, rather than being the action itself. Enough has been written about Heath Ledger’s Joker – but it’s worth noting that he captures just one version of the character. The Joker has nearly been around as long as Batman, and has been re-invented many times. The most radical departure is in the presentation of Harvey Dent, his Two-Face barely features, an important character restructured to add meaning to Batman’s quest for justice. Dent’s fate asks questions about what justice means, and what should be done to acheive it. Questions that come home to roost in TDKR.

So to the final film in Nolan’s series. It is as epic in size as you would hope, with effects and set-pieces to match. From the start this franchise has used very canny casting in supporting roles, and this is no different – Joseph Gordon Levitt shines, while Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman do what they do. Other newcomers, such as Tom Hardy and Anne Hathaway also blend well. Hathaway does especially well as her role, Catwoman, is saddled with the baggage of Michelle Pfeiffer’s excellent performance in Batman Returns. Catwoman’s character stays fairly faithful to the comics, Hardy’s Bane however diverts in several key ways. No longer from a Latin American Republic (the isle of Santa Prisca in the comics), Bane is now embroiled with the League of Shadows from Begins; this link, along with several others, neatly tie the films together as a real trilogy, linked not only through narrative and character, but also thematic and visual echoes of the previous films (making Gotham’s hostages walk out over the ice sent me back to the sword fight in Begins). What makes Nolan’s diversions from comic lore work are the sense that they are worked out – not simply done for the sake of difference. Bane’s new character and background preserve his key elements, of strength and tactical thought, while layering a sense of pathos into that hulking body.

The ending, which has had some folk up in arms, neatly ties up the films and the thematic arcs. Nolan knows that, just as he did, someone will reinvent these characters – this was his chance to push his vision to its conclusion. This may not please die-hards, but as a rounding off of a film trilogy it works just fine. 2 hours, 44 minutes, zipped by.

Spoilers!

Delirious. Insane. One can only speculate on the psychology of the creators of this, but let’s be glad they made it. Super details the adventures ofthe Crimson Bolt (Rainn Wilson); however this is no ordinary super-hero – he’s more the psychotic loaner convinced that god wants him to hit bad guys with a wrench. Seriously. It’s like Kick Ass meets Taxi Driver.

After being abandoned by his girlfriend (Liv Tyler) for the local drugs boss (Kevin Bacon) loser Frank sees his salvation by dressing up and attacking who ever he considers to be a criminal – a long list that includes people who cut into cinema queues. Lacking in superhero knowledge he researches his new vocation by going to the local comic store. Here he recruits Libby (Ellen Page) to his cause. Soon she masked and caped and calling herself Boltie. Together they fight crime and turn a cynical mirror towards the whole Super-Hero genre: you may never look at hero/sidekick relations in the same way again.

Good fun. A nostalgic, entertaining and energetic romp that put me in mind of Raiders of the Lost Ark; and while the film is never as good as Raiders it certainly offers plenty of entertainment and an excellent central performance by Evans who casts off the cocky Johnny Storm persona of Fantastic Four to give us something far more subtle and engaging. He’s ably supported by Atwell and the chemistry between the two gives us something different for a comic book movie – a grown up sense of romance. Jones and Weaving chew some scenery to good effect and the times are evoked well by some excellent art direction.

Johnston handles the action strongly and suffuses the film with a keen sense of nostalgia, the screen being saturated by an almost sepia tint at times. The best decision the film-makers made, though, was setting the story in 1943, allowing the heroics to be indulged in a simplistic, honest way; accepting a hero called Captain America in 2011 would be a very different proposition.

A final thought: this film surely contains one of the best special effects in modern blockbusters – Rogers’ pre-super soldier body, all skin and bone, sits below the thinned down face of Evans. Utterly convincing.

It has occurred to me that within the confines of the Superhero sub-genre that so dominates modern Hollywood output that there is a single relationship that underpins the Superheroes’ actions and their relationships to order and society. This relationship is between the Superhero and his father. Several recent releases reiterate this relationship, but it has its most clear articulation in Superman (Richard Donner, 1978) the film that set a structural template for the Superhero film. Thinking of fathers inevitably leads to Freud, Jung, et al and I’m going to use this post to suggest some ideas about the relationship between the Superhero and his father. The psychoanalytic ideas I shall refer to are those of the Symbolic Order and the Father Complex to highlight an essential structural element of this style of film. By investigating this we will see how the structure of the Super-Hero film hinges on the resolution of the subject/father relationship.

The relationship between the Superhero and his Father is a dominant theme in all the major Super-Hero releases from the past 30 years. For the purposes of this paper I will refer to Superman, X-Men (Bryan Singer, 2000), Spiderman (Sam Raimi, 2002), Daredevil (Mark Stephen Johnson, 2003), Batman Begins (Christopher Nolan, 2005), The Green Hornet (Michel Gondry, 2011) and Green Lantern (Martin Campbell, 2011). Each of these films articulates a father/son relationship that must be resolved for the hero to achieve their aims – a clear instance of the father complex (where the subject is formed/dependant on the father). In several of these films the father figure is not a relation but another who assumes the patriarchal relation, such as Uncle Ben in Spideman or Professor Xavier in X-Men, however it is their role as the representative of symbolic order, as a force which imposes law and regulates desire that is important. Often it is the removal of the father by a violent act that operates as the catalyst for the plot in these films (i.e. there is no Batman without the death of Bruce Wayne’s father Thomas).

The Traumatic Father

An initial trauma concerning the father can be seen across many of these films. The attempts to cope with the traumas, and the subsequent resolutions, are what drive the films forward. In Superman this is as dual trauma as two fathers are present; both die prematurely and the conflict of the central character’s choice between the two, forms much of the dramatic axis. Superman/Clark Kent/Kal-El has been passed from one father to another and so moves between two opposing Names of the Father/Symbolic Orders. The two father figures in Superman are opposed; there is the god-like natural father Jor-El who initially exists in relation to Kal-El as the perfect Real Father- his relationship existing in Kal-El’s pre-linguistic state. However through the use of audio recordings and teaching he becomes the representative of one type of Symbolic Father, imposing language and order onto the young child as he travels to earth. However Jor-El is subsequently displaced by the adoptive human father, Jonathan Kent. Kent is presented as distinctly human, preaching home-spun wisdom rather than the universal forms that Jor-El communicates. At this point Jor-El moves into being representative of the Imaginary Father, a fantasy projection of the imaginary ideal on which Clarke models his Superman persona (represented by the command of Jor-El that “the father becomes the son, and the son becomes the father”). In Superman’s decision to reject the rules of Jor-El and to change time to save Lois Lane from death we see a rejection of one, non-interventionist symbolic order (and the imaginary father), to another that approves of compassion – the acceptance of an alternative symbolic order. The human has triumphed over the divine, Jonathan has defeated Jor-El (this is especially so in the special edition which contains a scene explicitly dramatizing this conflict).

This acceptance of the Name-of-the-Father is a key element of these films. The reconciliation of the Superhero to their fathers signals an acceptance of the symbolic father and the rules and morality associated with them. In Batman Begins Bruce Wayne initially rejects the rules of the Symbolic Father in his quest for vengeance. His father, a doctor and philanthropist, was defined by his compassion. At this point in the narrative Bruce Wayne attempts to shoot his parents’ murderer, Joe Chill, but is thwarted by another assassin. This failure prompts a movement to China where Wayne takes up with a surrogate father Henri Ducard who teaches Wayne the physical skills required to complete his quest for vengeance. However it is Wayne’s rejection of Ducard’s invocation to kill and eventual acceptance of his Father’s principles that leads to him ascending into heroic status and becoming Batman. Similar to Superman, who dramatizes his conflict in his dual persona, a tension arises between the Batman and Wayne characters. Ironically it is the Batman figure who takes the place of Wayne’s father as a caretaker of Gotham, whereas Bruce Wayne becomes a mask.

Similarly problematic schisms with father figures occur in both The Green Hornet and Green Lantern. In The Green Hornet Britt Reed initially rejects the rules of his father, behaving in irresponsible and childish ways. His ascendancy to hero status comes at the realisation of his father’s true worth at which point he endeavours to uphold the journalistic ideas his father held dear. In Green Lantern Hal Jordan is crippled by fear, an anxiety picked up by watching his own father die in a plane crash. It is only by realising that the image of his father that he holds is an imaginary ideal that he can fully take his place in the Symbolic Order. By rejecting the Imaginary Father of his own ego-construct and embracing the lessons imparted by the Symbolic father, Jordan is able to conquer his own fear and save the planet from the fear entity Parallax.

The Surrogate Father

Spiderman & X-Men both use surrogate father figure to depict this resistance of entry into the symbolic order. For Peter Parker Uncle Ben occupies the place of the father. It is Parker’s rejection of his uncle’s teaching that leads to the uncle’s death. Only by embracing his Uncle’s axiom that “with great power comes great responsibility” can Parker take his place in the social order. In X-Men Charles Xavier presents a different father figure in that he remains constant throughout the film, with no traumatic separation. However it is Wolverine’s/Logan’s rejection of the Symbolic Order that brings him two Xavier’s School. By taking his place there, and accepting Xavier as the Symbolic Father, Wolverine is able to learn about himself. In X-Men 2 a conflict between an opposing father, General Stryker, is created in which Wolverine/Logan is given a choice. By choosing Xavier, and rejecting his creation at the hands of Stryker, a relationship similar to the Jor-El/Jonathan Kent dynamic is revealed.

The Failing Father

In Daredevil a dissonance about the relationship between the Imaginary Father and the actual father underpins the motivation of the central character. Matt Murdock believes his father to be a hard-working ex-boxer. When he discovers that he is actually a hired thug for a local mobster he runs away – a trauma that leads directly to his loss of sight. Full of grief Murdock senior cleans up his act, but this just leads to the traumatic event (his death at the hands of The Kingpin) that creates Daredevil. Murdock achieves resolution by defeating The Kingpin and resolving himself to be the type of man his father should have been.

Final Thoughts

I have written this to give a broad overview of the father issues present in the genre with a limited number of examples. However father complexes are clearly visible in Thor (Kenneth Brannagh, 2011) between Thor and Odin, and Loki and Odin; Superman Returns (Bryan Singer, 2006) between Superman and Jason; Batman (Tim Burton, 1989) between Wayne & his father but also, in a twisted echo, between Batman and the Joker; Batman Returns (Tim Burton, 1992) between The Penguin and his father; and Kick Ass (Mathew Vaughn, 2010) this time with a daughter – Hit-Girl and Big-Daddy). One wonders whether a female oriented Super-Hero film , Wonder Woman maybe, would replicate this dramatic axis, or replace it with a mother anxiety instead?

The Green Hornet is an object lesson in what happens when a film has a confused narrative image (the idea you have about the film from its marketing). On its own merits it succeeds just fine, offering a funny take on the superhero movie that has more in common with Kick Ass than The Dark Knight. However there is an element of confusion running through the movie that may explain its lack of mainstream success. It offers a film that both indulges and pastiches the nature of the super-hero film but, although successful in its own terms, doesn’t quite tick the mainstream boxes as it could have. The marketing emphasised the Super-Hero nature of the film, and the action, but missed the humorous take on the genre.

Tagging an esoteric director like Michel Gondry (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Science of Sleep) onto a comic book movie may have raised unrealistic expectations about what he would do: he delivers an entertaining film with some good humour and, on occaision, some excellent visuals but it’s not in the same milieu as his other films. We do get the sense of his previous work in one stand-out sequence that repeatedly splits the screen to simultaneously follow several characters’ actions and shows a bravura ability to co-ordinate action across multiple scenes. Rogen, as Britt Read, channels his usual persona and this is used to undermine the main principles of the Super-Hero film; yes he’s saddled with the usual paternal pressures but here he rails against the pressures, his sidekick (Kato well played by Jay Chou) is faster, stronger and cleverer than him, the female lead (an oddly cast Diaz in a minor role) rejects him continually. Strongest of all is Christophe Waltz as a confused villain who desperately wants to be eccentric and feared but comes across as calm and reasonable. As the film moves steadily through its narrative, balancing jokes and action well, a vibe closer to Men in Black emerges, and the relationship between Rogen and Chou works well.

Fans of the 1960s series and the comic might have issues – it’s neither an out-and-out camp extravaganza or a serious take on the character. Those who approach without prejudice might just have a good time.

Plot: Irresponsible but gifted test pilot Hal Jordan (Ryan Reynolds) is bestowed super-powers by a dying alien that make him part of an intergalactic police force. He must overcome his own doubts and fears to defeat an evil that threatens to destroy the earth.

View: If you take a cursory look at most reviews for this film you’d think it was a complete dog’s breakfast (it’s tracking in the 20-30% mark on Rotten Tomatoes). However despite its flaws, and there are several, I found it an enjoyable piece of blockbuster entertainment. The key strengths of this movie lie in Reynolds’ performance, some good realisation of alien landscapes and a solid, though underused, supporting cast.

The special effects and action set-pieces are generally reasonable and get better as the film goes on. There is some fun to be had in the use of the Lantern power-ring (a device that allows the wearer to project their thoughts and is powered by will) and the constructs that Jordan creates but, and this is the film’s big problem, we never really see enough of it, or indeed anything else. Green Lantern presents different problems for the comic book adaptor that a Batman or a Superman – being set in a much larger universe is the main one. That leaves the film-makers the problem of how much to cram in to the standard 120 minutes. Do you go for less of the mythology but more character, or less character and more story? In the end this film steers a path somewhere in the middle of the two without ever fully doing either. The threat of Parallax (an entity of pure fear) is suitably big, but as the film remains grounded on Earth we never really see it or follow the idea of fear as corruption to its end. Our earth bound foe, Hector Hammond (Stellan Skargaard) is also undercooked (as is a parallel between Jordan and Hammond regards their fathers), but he does offer some good value in the eccentric performance stakes. The romance between Jordan and Carol Ferris (Lively) is light but no more than you might expect for this type of movie. The film’s thrills are predictable perhaps but generally well executed and the film has a nice lively tone in opposition to the pervasive sense that a comic-book movie has to be ‘dark’ to work.

Two last points – this film’s supporting cast is amazing (Tim Robbins, Angela Bassett, Geoffrey Rush) but largely underused. And does anyone else find the mask on Green Lantern a bit creepy?